


Memories of Manton

by WhatHaveWeDone



Category: Mistborn - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Whump, best bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24527203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatHaveWeDone/pseuds/WhatHaveWeDone
Summary: This is the excerpt from Bands of Mourning, that inspired this fic.People did make way for him, which was convenient. He could have taken to the sky, but he found the mansion without difficulty, partially because of the people crowded outside and pointing. The symbol was painted in red, exactly like the one he’d known back in the Roughs, but this time it marred the wall of a fine, three-story stone mansion instead of a stagecoach.“Waxillium, for the love of sanity,” Marasi said, catching up to him. “What has gotten into you?”He pointed at the symbol.“I recognize that,” Marsai said. Why would I recognize that?”You read the accounts of my time in the Roughs,” Wax said, “It’s in there – that’s the symbol of Ape Manton, one of my old nemeses.”“Ape Manton!” Marasi said. “Didn’t he - ““Yes,” Wax said, remembering the nights of torture. “He hunts Allomancers.”In the original text it was Wax that Manton took. Not in my version though......
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13





	Memories of Manton

Wax caught his breath as he took in the two men in front of him.

One was standing, turning in surprise at the lawman's appearance. Wax hated him. He was well dressed for a below average merchant, but his sturdy shirt was now splattered with blood instead of being pristine and crisp. His eyes had the light of madness in them. His knuckles were bloody, as was the blade that had dropped to the floor.

The other was hanging by wrists tightly bound in layers of rope and looped around a roof beam of the barn. Manton moved swiftly, stepping behind Wayne and pulling him close to shield most of his own body from Wax’s levelled gun. 

Wayne was almost  unrecognisable : one eye swelling, face covered in blood, cheek bruised and jaw looking out of place. One shoulder looked broken, the arm too. Deep black bruising had already started to spread across his shirtless chest. A knee was clearly dislocated and  his trousers were sodden with blood. Wax hated Manton for doing this to his friend, and he hated himself even more for letting it happen.

He still didn't know exactly how Wayne was taken: he was a hard man to surprise but Manton had a twisted but driving motivation and Wax hadn't noticed Wayne was missing for half a day. It had taken days to track them down to this abandoned farmstead, days that had clearly been rough on Wayne. And that was all on Wax.

“Let him go.” Wax sighted down the barrel, looking for a window of opportunity to put a bullet in this  psychopath's skull.

“Want to join in the fun lawman?” Manton hissed. Wayne was swinging slightly as Manton shifted, his one open eye unfocused. 

“No. Step away from him.” Wax growled, burning steel slow and steady, feeling the metal all around him. Manton had only one significant mass of metal on his person but from this angle it was impossible to tell if it was a knife or a gun or something else entirely. 

“Spoil sport. I rarely get a Twinborn and never a  Bloodmaker before. I wanted to see how far I could push him. Play a little, return his  metalminds for little while. Repeat.” He gave a disgusting snigger, and ran a hand through Wayne’s hair, pulling his head backwards. “We were just getting started as well.”

The said  metalminds were  deliberately in sight on the dusty floor but f rustratingly just out of reach. Hopefully they were full as Wayne had spent two days last week in bed with a ‘hangover', he would need all the health he could get.

“It’s over Manton. Step away and I will take you in.” Wax took a slow step to his left.

“As if I would let you put your disgusting, corrupted hands on me.” 

“I’m not going to give you a choice.” Wax took another half step, gaining a few degrees of visibility. It was another knife, resting lightly against Wayne’s spine, threatening to sever it. Wax tried to make eye contact with Wayne – they had worked together long enough now that they didn’t always need words to communicate, but right now all that he was getting from Wayne was pain. A lot of pain. 

This was all up to Wax.

“We’ve tracked you across the Roughs you know. Us Lawmen. Seen what you’ve done, the bodies you’ve left.” Manton gave a sly smile. “There are a whole army of us looking forward to bringing you in. It’s funny really.  Allomancers aren’t really that common but there are a surprising number out here in the Roughs and for some reason we gravitate to the law. You’re going to be watched day and night by us, once I have you in custody. You’re going to be a docile prisoner waiting for justice once the soothers get near you.”

Manton’s expression had turned from satisfaction to fear to horror as Wax talked, the worse thing he could imagine was being at the mercy of  Allomancers , let alone ones with reason to hate him.

“You will not! I will not submit to you …. you cretins!” Manton lunged at Wax, agitated enough to forget that the only thing that was protecting him was the risk of Wayne being hit by friendly fire. Four shots rang out and Manton collapsed, screaming, two bullets neatly in each knee cap. 

Holstering his gun, Wax gave Manton a firm kick in the head – probably not enough to kill him but enough to knock him out – and scooped up one of the knifes to saw through Wayne's bindings, lowering him gently to the ground. 

“You with me?” He asked, concern tightening his stomach as he got his first good look at Wayne’s wounds. He had heard of what Manton did to his victims, seen it with his own eyes on two occasions, but it was different to see his friend laying in the dust baring those marks.

Wayne gave a pained growl and squeezed his eyes tight shut, face pale and hands trembling where they clutched at the ground. “ Me’al min’s,” he gasped out.

Wax snatched up the simple arm bands and forced them into Wayne’s hand, gently curling his  broken fingers around the unadorned gold.

“Right here Wayne, right here.” He said, hoping that his partner was awake enough to use them. Hesitantly Wax pushed two fingers into Wayne’s neck to check for his heart beat hoping that the slowing breaths were a sign of lessening pain and not something worse. His pulse was steady but light enough that is wasn’t reassuring.

“ Gonna . Be. Slow.” Wayne ground out and Wax’s heart leapt that his young partner could do even that much. 

“Do you want me to help?” Wax asked, and at Wayne’s single nod gave him a reassuring squeeze on the arm. “I won’t be a minute.”

Hauling Manton to one side and tying him securely took a few minutes, tearing the monster’s own clothes for make shift bandages took more time but it was worth it to make sure the rusting bastard couldn’t squirm away, then Wax dashed for his saddlebags. He had a small supply of bandages, pain relief, mild stimulants, needle and thread. It was a supply he kept for himself only but today he would use it all on his friend \- and gladly. 

Wax had rarely had to give first aid to Wayne, for he usually taking care of himself with bandages if not with Feruchemy. It was as Wax was routing through his saddlebags for the necessary supplies that the wave of adrenaline he had been riding withdrew, leaving him high and dry with some terrifying thoughts. 

What if he hadn’t taken that last turning? Manton would still be – let's give it the right word – torturing Wayne. Manton could have sliced his throat the moment Wax stepped into that barn. Wayne was still bleeding, his injuries numerous. For anyone but a  Bloodmaker they would probably be fatal and even with that edge the results weren’t certain. Blood loss, shock, internal injuries, infection – anything could be fatal in the next hours or days. 

With such extensive injuries Wayne would have to use his stored health very, very slowly - even with full metalminds - to take care of everything that Wax saw and suspected. Wayne would be relying on him to help with those wounds that weren’t a priority and to keep him alive long enough for him to do the rest.

Wayne had done the same for him many a time, and despite their  unorthodox first meeting Wayne had proved  steadfast and dedicated year after year. 

* * *

“You are not seriously considering it?” Miles sat opposite, bottle of the strongest wine available sitting between them, eyes narrowed in consideration.

“Of course. We could use the help out here, there’s a lot of ground to cover and a lot of men that need to be bought in.”

“Men like him. Murderers. That you have already bought in and should be heading straight for the gallows.”

“He doesn’t deserve that, Miles.” Wax said, remembering the state the boy had been in when he’d been tracked to his hiding hole. 

“He’s a murderer.”

“He’s a kid who got in over his head and has done something that he regrets. Have you never wished life had presented you with different choices?” Wax remembered rain streaming down his face, a little boy clinging to his leg. “Anyway, the judge will make that decision, not me. I will abide by that but I can’t say I don’t hope he’ll get a chance to make amends in this life rather than the next. To make a different choice. He’s not going to have an itchy trigger finger either.”

Miles stood, chair scraping back across the worn wooden floor, adjusting his holsters and his hat.

“Well, if you end up with a bullet in the head because he hesitated don’t come crying to me. And if he finds out he does like killing just a little too much, or puts any other lawmen at risk, I’ll put a bullet in him myself.” He threw back over his shoulder as he made for the door, “And I will be happy to do it.”

* * *

There was no-one that Wax would prefer to watch his back and he had to pause just a second to shake off the leaden feeling that settled in his stomach. If he had followed that other trail first. If he had taken the right turning instead of the left. He wouldn't have double backed here until at least the next day and that might have been too late. If Wax didn’t stop standing around it might still be. 

“Harmony show us mercy.” Wax whispered, gathering himself to return to the barn. 

The next hour was taken with careful work. First order of business was to stop the bleeding, stitching the worst cuts swiftly and as neatly as was within his skill. Scars wouldn’t matter if Wayne bled out. Next was to re-seat the dislocated joints, Wayne giving a grunt and muttered curses with each one. Broken bones were more difficult and more numerous. Wax only moved them enough to give Wayne some relief from the  white hot pain that went along with a break: more serious setting would need to wait until they returned to what passed as civilization round here. If Wayne couldn’t handle it himself that is.

After that there was not much that he could do. He cleared an area to safely start a fire for the warmth they would need in the coming night and to boil up some water for a strong sweat tea. Dehydration was a danger to them both out here and Wax had to ease Wayne’s head up to get him in a position to drink from his canteen, and hold him as he took achingly small slow sips.

The night passed slowly; Wax keeping watch with just the crackling of the fire and his own thoughts for company. Manton woke briefly but another firm blow to the head kept him quiet lest he disturb his partner. Wayne was in deep: walking that fine knife edge that was drawing on the stored health fast enough to live but slow enough to make it last. He would be healing the  life threatening injuries first, the life changing ones after and Wax prayed there would be enough for both.

Wayne didn’t even stir when the sound of hooves scuffing in the dust announced the arrival of Miles who barely spared him a glance while manhandling Manton over his saddle for a rough ride to a judge. Wayne wouldn’t have wanted to been seen like that by Miles. 

The rising sun crept through the ill-fitting doors right into Wax’s face, fully rousing him from the fitful half sleep that had filled the night. He hadn’t wanted to leave Wayne untended for a moment, and that was taking it’s toll now in gritty eyes and wide yawns. 

Wax stirred the fire and boiled a strong tea in the kettle, laying out pieces of bread, cheese and dried meat ready. 

“Wayne, you need to wake up for a while.” He said, gently prodding at his friend. 

Wayne cracked an eye open. One was still too swollen to open with ease. “I’m not asleep,  ya know. Can’t heal if I’m counting sheep.” he said, but his voice rough but much stronger and clearer than it had been the night before.

“Maybe you should have been, you’ll need some actual rest too. As well as this,” Wax gestured to the simple feast he had laid out.

Wayne laboriously turned on his side to get a better look. When he made no move to actually sit up Wax took the initiative, deftly maneuvering the young man to a sitting position. It was no small effort on Wax’s part to ignore the sharp inhales, gritted teeth and low groans from Wayne, his wounds still grievous enough that he could barely move under his own power.

“Where is he? Did he get away?” The darting glances in to the corner darkness and hesitant tone made it clear who Wayne was referring to, even as he chewed gingerly, jaw looking slightly better but still  misshapen . 

“No, he’s been taken back to  Wethering by now. Locked up tight in a jail cell and going nowhere.” There weren’t nearly as many  Allomancers around as Wax had implied to Manton, but there were certainly enough lawmen to make sure he would stay behind bars for the rest of his life. Short as that may be. 

A slight lowering of Wayne’s shoulders was the only sign of the tension he had been holding on to, his face tightly controlled. 

“Anything more I can do?” Wax offered. “How bad is it?”

Wayne shook his head slowly. “It’s just going to take time mate. There’s -  “ he hesitated and lowered his eyes to the dusty floor, skin pale beneath his ripening bruises. “There’s a lot to do. I - I’m not going to be moving for at least a couple of days.” A lifetime for someone used to washing away injury in seconds or minutes and the vulnerability Wayne was showing reminded Wax just how young his partner really was. 

“Well, I’ve got nowhere else to be.” Wax said, leaning back against a hay bale. “I think I’ve got a book in my saddlebags.”

“Not  gonna do dome shooting practice? I’m pretty sure your aim could do with some work.” Wayne grunted, settling awkwardly back.

Wax grinned, reassured for the first time that Wayne was going to be alright. The physical scars might be dealt with the easiest, but they had all the time in the world. 


End file.
